Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Rainbows And Kittens... Come To Me
by venitha
Having been reprimanded for my negative attitude - Can we talk about rainbows and kittens now? - I've been searching this week for a positive outlook. But nausea and exhaustion and ill-fitting knickers are significant hurdles on the path to Mary Sunshine, a role in which I am ill-cast under even the best of circumstances.
The most relentlessly-positive person I know recently informed me that the correct answer to the question of how my day was, particularly when it's asked by the wonderful husband on whose largesse I continue to live the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed, and particularly when that tall, dark, and handsome man is dressed in work clothes and is toting a computer so he can continue his workday late into the night from the comfort of home, is not a rant about the evils of United Healthcare, abhorrent as they may be. The proper response is instead
Good coaching, Brian.
In spite of the fact that Jim would seriously suspect drug abuse or body snatchers or Eddie Bauer's having opened a store in Singapore if I suddenly exhibited such delirious enthusiasm, Brian has a point. I should appreciate this time of lazy unemployment. I think back to a December a lifetime ago, when, having arranged the miracle of three whole weeks off work over the holidays, I gushed to friends at a festive lab Christmas party that they surely wouldn't recognize me come the new year. I'd be transformed by the unquenchable happiness and sublime bliss that would descend, softly-falling snow coolly blanketing my newly-unhunched shoulders, during divine freedom from my domineering boss and my stressful job and my annoying co-workers - Oh! Of course I don't mean you!
So how is it that as my leave of absence from work creeps wearily toward its resolution, as I pack for six glorious days with my beloved in the paradise of Bali, as Jim quivers with the anticipation of eleven - eleven! - days free from work over the holidays, my attention is fixed on the calendar, anxiously awaiting bedtime when I can use a fat purple marker to cross off another far-too-slowly-passing day?
Perhaps I've merely succumbed to that dreaded disease, Singapore-itis: having been in this little country for far, far too long. It's been over 5 weeks since my last escape, a long weekend in Taipei in early November, and in my vast 18 months of experience, that's at least one week too many without the breath of fresh air and the renewed appreciative perspective provided by any other country.
So Bali calls seductively, beckons with frothy shakes of papaya and pineapple, with hypnotic melodies of rintik and gamelan, with dreamless sleep beneath mosquito netting and the Southern Cross... Come to me.
venitha
The most relentlessly-positive person I know recently informed me that the correct answer to the question of how my day was, particularly when it's asked by the wonderful husband on whose largesse I continue to live the lifestyle to which I have become accustomed, and particularly when that tall, dark, and handsome man is dressed in work clothes and is toting a computer so he can continue his workday late into the night from the comfort of home, is not a rant about the evils of United Healthcare, abhorrent as they may be. The proper response is instead
Faaaabulous! I didn't go to work! All day! In the morning? No work! In the afternoon? No work! It was absolutely fabulous!
Good coaching, Brian.
In spite of the fact that Jim would seriously suspect drug abuse or body snatchers or Eddie Bauer's having opened a store in Singapore if I suddenly exhibited such delirious enthusiasm, Brian has a point. I should appreciate this time of lazy unemployment. I think back to a December a lifetime ago, when, having arranged the miracle of three whole weeks off work over the holidays, I gushed to friends at a festive lab Christmas party that they surely wouldn't recognize me come the new year. I'd be transformed by the unquenchable happiness and sublime bliss that would descend, softly-falling snow coolly blanketing my newly-unhunched shoulders, during divine freedom from my domineering boss and my stressful job and my annoying co-workers - Oh! Of course I don't mean you!
So how is it that as my leave of absence from work creeps wearily toward its resolution, as I pack for six glorious days with my beloved in the paradise of Bali, as Jim quivers with the anticipation of eleven - eleven! - days free from work over the holidays, my attention is fixed on the calendar, anxiously awaiting bedtime when I can use a fat purple marker to cross off another far-too-slowly-passing day?
Perhaps I've merely succumbed to that dreaded disease, Singapore-itis: having been in this little country for far, far too long. It's been over 5 weeks since my last escape, a long weekend in Taipei in early November, and in my vast 18 months of experience, that's at least one week too many without the breath of fresh air and the renewed appreciative perspective provided by any other country.
So Bali calls seductively, beckons with frothy shakes of papaya and pineapple, with hypnotic melodies of rintik and gamelan, with dreamless sleep beneath mosquito netting and the Southern Cross... Come to me.
venitha
